


A Little Like Belonging, A Lot Like Love

by sweetiejelly



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-30
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-28 12:30:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetiejelly/pseuds/sweetiejelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Kurt and Blaine's date ends with a kiss and one time it goes further.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Like Belonging, A Lot Like Love

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of the [KissKiss Valentine Exchange](http://community.livejournal.com/kurt_blaine/tag/kisskiss%20exchange%202010) at kurt_blaine during January 2011 (so only canon up to mid-January or so). Finally posting because [reveals](http://community.livejournal.com/kurt_blaine/917774.html) went up today. Originally posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/kurt_blaine/726825.html) but cross-posted to [my LJ](http://sweetiejelly.livejournal.com/147311.html) with a few grammatical edits, etc. Thank you to my lovely beta jyl22075! ♥

1.  
The first time Blaine asks Kurt out on a date, ever so casually – “You hate math. I don’t. You speak almost fluent French. I don’t. You know what would be a great idea? You and I get together after Warblers practice for a study date. What do you say?” – Kurt says yes before he realizes what he’s done, registers the word _date_.

At least he thinks it’s a date.

“Great! It’s a date.” Blaine seems to read his mind. Or the blinks of his eyes. He smiles as he gives Kurt’s arm a light squeeze. Logically, Kurt knows it’s just a small, friendly gesture. Logically he knows it doesn’t warrant the jump of his heart like an engine’s just roared into life, a fire red convertible with its top down, a bird with its cage unlocked. _Logically._

There’s nothing logical about his reaction to Blaine, nothing logical at all being this close to Blaine’s eyes, his lips. This close, the small, friendly gesture feels like the single most intimate touch he’s ever experienced. And he’s kissed Brittany, danced with Finn.

“The commons – I’ll meet you there at seven?” Even Blaine’s voice feels like a caress.

Kurt breathes in deep and offers up breathy, “Yeah! Yes. Se- seven sounds good.”

Blaine looks at him with something kind, something sweet yet incredibly hot and nods. When he lifts his hand from its spot around Kurt’s upper arm, Kurt instantly misses its heat, imagines an after-thermal image yellow as the sun.

\---

Blaine clicks his pocket watch closed. It is two minutes and thirty seconds to seven. Not that he’s counting down. Not quite. He just likes to be prompt.

He jogs a little faster, picking up his pace. It’s no excuse that he took a little longer showering tonight, shampooing his hair into its curls. It’s no excuse that his hair spray bottle fell under the desk and took him a while locating. The Andersons are never late.

\---

Kurt applies another layer of chapstick and looks around. There are a few students in the commons, laptops balanced on their knees as they click away on their keyboards. The dim noise of typing mirrors his heartbeat. Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap. No Blaine yet. But then again he had been half an hour early.

Kurt runs his fingers through his hair again and drops his hand when he remembers Mercedes’ advice from earlier. “Kurt, just relax. He likes you. It’ll go great. Just don’t mess with your hair! You know. That thing you do? Don’t. Keep your hands off. It’s already perfect and you know it.”

He does know it. He checked it three times in the mirror just to make sure.

“Hi.”

Kurt looks up from the _x_ and _y_ of the algebra on the page and sees something much more beautiful, if not any less confusing. “Blaine! Oh good, my eyes are about to cross from this trick question about trains colliding and how fast they could squish a bumblebee. I mean, shouldn’t they be more concerned about switching tracks or calling an ambulance?”

Kurt knows he’s babbling. He knows his cheeks are rosy to the point of embarrassment. He knows he’s sliding his fingers again, out of habit, through his hair. But he doesn’t really care. It’s his first date. He thinks he should be allowed to be nervous on a first date if bumblebees are allowed to be idiotic in textbooks.

Blaine smiles, amusement filling his eyes, and gestures to the seat next to Kurt on the couch. “May I?”

Kurt smiles back; it’s automatic (like the self-preservation instinct of bees, of all beings). He nods and takes a breath in. Blaine smells wonderful, fresh. Kurt catches a note of sandalwood and one of rum and breathes again.

“So,” Blaine dips the cushion a bit as he sits and Kurt couldn’t help noticing the weight of it, how hot it is, how Blaine feels like this wall of heat all along his left side. Then Blaine speaks French and Kurt is reminded again how romantic the language sounds, why he loves it. “ _S'il vous plait._ Shall we start?”

“ _Oui_.”

\---

Blaine thinks it’s inevitable that they should turn towards each other, closer and closer like a swirl of raisin-y goodness on bread. Kurt has this passion to him, this joie de vivre, this flame that draws him in. If Blaine takes advantage of the fact that the room emptied out half an hour ago and the fact that these floor lamps cast a warm glow over them like candles, well, Kurt isn’t complaining. If anything, Kurt is matching every move he makes.

He’s surprised they have managed to actually study. But Kurt’s a great teacher and he must not be half bad himself if Kurt’s knocking out problem sets like hitting the high C.

Now they are somehow huddled close, almost nose to nose, eyes on the glossy pages of _French III_. And then not. Blaine looks at Kurt’s lips, could almost taste them, and then reins himself back. This is Kurt, he reminds himself. This is Kurt who was robbed of his first guy kiss by a bully. Blaine promised himself ever since he heard about Karofsky, Dave that as much as he likes Kurt – which is a lot a lot – he is not going to steal a kiss from him unless Kurt makes the first move, unless Kurt is absolutely _sure_.

So instead of a kiss, he bumps his nose playfully against Kurt’s, just ambiguous enough to be prelude to more or a comforting touch between friends. Immediately, he registers the response, the rise and fall of Kurt’s Adam’s apple as he swallows. And Blaine breathes deep too, feels the hum in the air, the thrill through his veins. It reminds him of his first time, how fear mingles with want and combusts into this beautiful mess. He catches himself before he falls deeper and forgets himself, before he plunges forward and crashes into Kurt’s lips. He leans back, deliberately.

“This was-” His voice betrays him, coming out scratchy, singed, bearing evidence of the flame inside.

He starts again. “We should do this again sometime.”

Kurt’s mouth falls open to silence. He shuts it again quickly, folding upper lip into lower lip and blinks, looking down as he closes his book. “Yeah, definitely.” The words are slow, measured, and Blaine instantly regrets ruining the moment. The Andersons don’t ruin moments. They make them.

He wants to kick himself. Instead, he gathers his things and stands. “C’mon, I’ll walk you to your room.”

As they ascend the stairs, Blaine begins formulating an idea, begins rehearsing it in his head.

\---

Kurt studies his palm. He doesn’t believe in fate or horoscopes. It’s not the love line that he’s studying. He’s looking at the spot in the center triangle where Blaine had kissed him at the door. The spot still tingles.

He just went from unbelievable more in love with Blaine (the whole study session, the Eskimo kiss) to deflated (the abrupt end to their study date) to elated again (the palm kiss good night) in less than two hours. This is crazy, he thinks. And this is wonderful.

“Oh Mercedes,” he folds his hand over his heart. “It’s like indulging in a tub of rum chocolate soufflé, except better.”

“Mmm-hmm. So, when are you getting some more?”

 

2.  
The first time Kurt asks Blaine out on a date, Blaine is fully aware of the song and dance before it even begins. He is cursed with dog ears, he’s been told. Blaine hears all, even if he doesn’t know all.

He overhears Kurt on the phone with Mercedes. (Is it his fault that Kurt’s door is open?) “Do you think asking Blaine to volunteer at the soup kitchen with me is a good idea? I mean, it’s a volunteer credit, which always looks good on college applications, even if feeding the hungry isn’t his thing. Right?”

“Yes, of course, I would love to,” Blaine assures Kurt now. “Soup kitchens are definitely my thing.” He winks and catches Kurt’s cheeks warm.

Inside he warms too. This means time alone with Kurt, outside Dalton perimeters. This means Kurt is interested. This means they’re on their way to another date. Inside he warms by a lot.

\---

Kurt holds up a square of apron, folded, over his outfit, smoothing it down. He has really missed wearing his own clothes, his bold statements proclaiming that he’s quite fabulous, thank you. “Here - I have one for you, too.” He takes out another light blue striped square from his bag. It’s a twin of the one he has.

Blaine’s fingers slide warm over his, “Thanks Kurt,” and Blaine’s voice pours warm into the space between them. “Now I won’t get spaghetti sauce on my jeans.”

Kurt’s eyes dart down to the jeans, tight enough from this angle, and he couldn’t help the quick swipe of tongue over lips. Blaine is in his white shirt (tieless today) with a sweater vest, jeans and tennis shoes – normal wear that sits nothing close to normal on him.

“Stainless," Kurt manages to parrot. "Not to mention, you will look even more fabulous.” He beams and catches a beam back. They’re in Blaine’s car waiting for the red light to change to green. Kurt feels a little bit like that, like he’s waiting for a switch to be flipped. They have been so careful, perched on this line of _maybe_ , perched like pigeons above the lights.

When the car starts, Kurt forces himself to look away from Blaine's stupidly attractive face. His eyes land on the wheel, on how Blaine’s hands rest there, knuckles and veins, muscles and calm, totally in control. Kurt doesn't think about how he has a thing for hands. Not much anyway.

\---

Blaine tries to concentrate on the road, get them there to the soup kitchen without a scratch. But it’s hard to ignore the activities to his right. He could almost feel Kurt fidgeting, clenching and unclenching his hands, tying and re-tying the apron strings.

He turns off the iPod and lets Lady Gaga’s rah-rahs fade away. “So,” he taps once on the wheel. “Have you volunteered at the soup kitchen before? Or is this your first time?”

Kurt jerks his eyes up, almost startled at the question. “Oh. Um, my dad volunteers and takes me along sometimes. It’s definitely not-not my first time.”

Blaine thinks about his family, how they simply donate to charities, never quite _doing_ much besides. “That’s cool. It’s _my_ first time, so I’ll just follow you.”

“That’s a change.” Kurt turns his head just so, looking thoroughly pleased.

Blaine feels a bubble of laugh expanding his chest as he lets go. This high, this _lightness_ , he thinks he has never felt before. No, it’s Kurt. It’s all Kurt.

\---

Kurt thinks Blaine has to be lying about never serving before. In addition to looking dashing in the striped blue apron, Blaine is a natural at scooping up servings of sweet canned corn. There isn’t any spill and his hands are strong, working fast, kind. Kurt sort of wants to get in line so he can take his time and flirt like that one girl did. (And who could blame her?)

\---

“So, that was a good way to spend a Saturday morning.” Kurt all but skips as he says this. And Blaine feels his fondness grow, shrubbery to tree to forest.

He smiles and blinks as he scans the parking lot for his car. “A very good way,” he nods, squinting a bit in the sun. “I have dropped off cans of corns and beans before, but actually serving them was so much more meaningful. It’s humbling. Thank you, Kurt.”

Kurt does that adorable folded lip thing that he does and Blaine grips his keys harder. He can resist. Really, he can.

He doesn’t think about this, however, on the way back to Dalton. Instead, he falls into conversation with Kurt about food and family. Kurt tells him about the Hummel raw chicken incident and Blaine sops up every bit of love and longing in the inflections.

He lays a hand over Kurt’s. It’s a gesture of comfort at first. But two intersections later, it becomes more as Kurt turns his hand, fitting them palm to palm.

\---

Kurt feels like they’re in elementary. Every simple thing – like holding hands – becomes a big deal. He really likes holding hands with Blaine. He talks about his mom and dad, about food at their table, how broken and raw death really was. He doesn’t usually confide so quickly. But it’s Blaine, with his stupidly sweet squeeze of hand, his nonjudgmental silence.

So they hold hands through the red lights and the green lights. They hold hands all the way back to Dalton.

\---

Blaine inhales the warmth of the sun at noon. He feels warm all over as he closes his car door, locks everything up.

Then he looks up and sees Kurt – so close, almost caging him back against his car door. Only, Kurt’s arms are by his side and it’s just Kurt’s eyes doing the caging, causing the burn. Blaine grips his keys, bunching it and the cloth of the apron in his hand.

Kurt sees the movement. “You can keep that, if you want. I can always make more.”

“You _made_ this?” And Blaine wonders what else he doesn’t know about Kurt, wonders where the diva meets the shy meets the sarcastic. “Then I will definitely keep it. A Kurt Hummel original! Thank you.”

Kurt mock rolls his eyes, sweet dimples gracing his cheeks. Blaine wants to eat him up. It probably shows on his face because the next thing he knows, Kurt is bending forward, kissing him just outside the corner of his lips.

 

3.  
For a brief moment, Blaine considers skipping the shower for a day. He could still feel Kurt’s lip print on his cheek, the light exhale like a touch. Routine (and hygiene), however, compels him to run water over his face, erase all trace of the kiss that almost was.

Another date, he decides, is the answer. He is hooked on Kurt. Popcorn, creamed corn, corn on a cob – so very corny but each evokes the memory of warm pressure against his cheek, evokes the smell of three, five products, Kurt, Kurt, Kurt. In French class, in math class – Blaine thinks about him. He thinks about him before he falls asleep and when he wakes. He thinks about him, it seems, all the time. It has been a while since he was this smitten.

A date, he decides, they need another date, stat.

\---

Kurt runs through scales in his head as he reviews his notes. It’s almost time for dinner, i.e. another opportunity to see Blaine, to talk to him. It’s another opportunity to watch him eat.

Blaine is all manners, suave and put together. But when he eats, Kurt can see some of the frayed edges, how Blaine’s a lovely mess behind the napkin. How he crunches the crispy lettuce leaves like Finn or Puck, how he moans around ice cream like a mere mortal, how chocolate darkens his lips, how his tongue flicks out to swallow the sweet and half-bitter.

Not that Kurt has an oral fixation. Half the time he’s watching his own food or Blaine’s hands, how those veins just below the surface of skin move like the dips of piano keys – smooth one second and waved the next, and always, always beautiful.

These are his thoughts when the knocks come at the door – three fast raps then one slow one. _Blaine_. Kurt runs a quick hand over his hair and smoothes the front of his white shirt, feeling the row of buttons like supersized goose bumps. He takes a long breath in and exhales, and opens the door.

Blaine stands there in his crisp uniform, jacket and all, wearing an expression that Kurt can’t quite read. It’s not unlike the expression Blaine had back around Christmas when he startled Kurt mid-study with the thud of his boom box. “How do you feel about a picnic?”

It’s then that Kurt notices the red and white checkered cloth sticking out of the wicker basket by their feet.

“Here?”

“Preferably inside,” Blaine cocks his head and smiles.

That smile does a funny thing to Kurt’s inside, makes his toes curl just a little. “Oh, my room’s far superior to the hallway,” he pushes his door open wider. “Much better color scheme. Not to mention, I have moist towelettes.”

“As do I,” Blaine indicates the basket he just picked up.

“Well,” Kurt tries to be cool, remain calm – _he’s in his room alone with Blaine! Alone with Blaine!_ – “Brilliant minds,” he grins, giving a quick shrug.

\---

Half an hour in and most of the food ingested, Blaine is silently cursing Wes. His original idea for the picnic entails a much bigger space, one where he can spread the blanket out to its full size, not folded three quarters the way it is now. But Wes said, “The park? Why? Just go to his room! You’ll have privacy, a/c, no ants, and no grass stains. What more could a guy ask for?”

No cramp in his legs, Blaine thinks.

They’re sitting on either side of the basket, a bit stiff and twisted around the small space in the center of Kurt’s room. From this angle, he sees the chair legs and desk legs and just the edge of the bed, padded with a soft curve of comforter. He tries not to look at it too much. It looks so much more inviting. And that’s terrifying. The last time Blaine was on a bed with a guy…

“What’s wrong?” Kurt’s hand lands on his shoulder, a gesture so warm and familiar that Blaine has to close his eyes a moment.

Nothing, he considers saying. But then Kurt is moving the picnic basket to the desk and clearing the space between them, crouching down close. His hand rests on Blaine’s back, a tentative touch and then solid.

There’s no push there, and Blaine is grateful for that. All the same, he feels his words being pulled out of the shadow. “I’ve never told anyone this. Not even Wes and David. Not even my sister. But…” He looks over at Kurt and sees the steady gaze back. “A couple of years ago, I fell for this guy at my old school.” Kurt’s hand holds steady and Blaine blurts out the name he’s held back for so long. “Clint.”

“What was he like?”

Blaine shakes his head. “I’m not sure. I think I was always more in love with the _idea_ of him than the real thing. He was smart, on the football team, and gay. It was like all my fantasies come true. But he…” And Blaine sneaks a look at Kurt, at those steady blue eyes.

He hesitated just a moment before continuing. “We ended up in his room one day after school and he pulled me into bed, even though I was-I wasn’t ready. We had barely even kissed. So, I pushed him away. The next day at school, he cornered me in the boys’ restroom and kissed me, apologized. The fool that I was, I was ready to believe him. But then one of his teammates walked in and he pushed me away, saying I came onto him.”

Kurt lets out a soft gasp. “Oh, Blaine.” One of his arm wraps around Blaine’s back, and Blaine sinks into this side hug, this comfort and warmth.

“Kurt, I just want you know – I would _never_ –”

“I know,” Kurt gives his shoulder another squeeze before letting go, folding his hands in his lap.

They sit comfortably in silence, shoulder to shoulder, and Blaine finally feels a sense of closure. He never thought it would come like this, never thought he would even tell Kurt about Clint. The two couldn’t be more different.

“You know,” Kurt changes his tone from therapy serious to sing-song flirty. “You may not know this, but I was on the football team at McKinley last year.”

“Oh, really?” Like with the handmade aprons, Kurt keeps surprising him.

“Yup. I was a pretty kick-ass kicker, if I do say so myself.” Kurt flashes him a grin.

Blaine grins back. And then he tries to imagine Kurt in a football uniform.

“What?”

“Just trying to imagine you in giant shoulder pads and knee pads and the whole outfit,” Blaine tells him. “Actually, you look pretty hot.” _In the uniform in my head_ , he wants to add. But the truth is Kurt looks pretty hot just the way he is right now, in a non-descript white shirt and standard black trousers, in his smile.

Kurt folds his lips together in that coy way. “Blaine…I’m not in love with the _idea_ of you.”

Blaine feels blood rushing in his ears, and he couldn’t look away from how beautiful Kurt is, how slowly Kurt is leaning closer and closer. _I’m in love with you, too._ He lifts his chin a fraction towards Kurt. He registers the slight parting of Kurt’s lips as they hover over his. _I want you, Kurt. And I want you to want me._ But all he manages to say is, “ _Kurt_.”

\---

Kurt closes his eyes and drinks in his name on Blaine’s tongue like a prayer. The kiss is sweet and tentative, a hello.

Then Blaine makes a noise deep in his throat, a sexy sort of rumble, and Kurt couldn’t help moving closer, fitting them together better. Especially when he feels Blaine’s hands cupping the sides of his face, warm and kind and strong, so different from Brittany, from Karofsky. Especially when Blaine tilts his head backward, deepening the kiss.

Kurt feels for the first time in his life, in a non-platonic way, loved, finally loved.

\---

“Well, well, well, doesn’t someone look like the cat that swallowed the canary?”

Blaine sets the empty picnic basket down on his desk and smiles back at Wes’ raised eyebrows. “All right, I’ll say it. You’re a genius, Wes.”

“I never pretended to be otherwise.”

“So humble too.” But Blaine couldn’t help smiling. The way Kurt makes him feel is better than caffeine, better than chocolate, better than singing a solo.

And now the weight of love’s false start has been lifted, too. Kurt did that. Blaine is a maybe a little bit more than a lot in love.

 

4.  
Kurt is still basking in the afterglow of the kiss when he gets a call from Finn.

“Hey Kurt, listen, we’re throwing a surprise birthday party for Puck this Friday night. You have to come, bro. It’s going to be crazy awesome. Besides, Santana will kick my ass if you don’t.”

It takes Kurt a minute to hear what Finn just said. “Hmm? Oh! Can I bring a plus one?”

“Plus one?” Even through the phone, Kurt could hear Finn’s confusion.

“Can I bring my–” Kurt breaks off. He and Blaine haven’t quite gotten to the labels yet. “Can I bring Blaine?”

“Yeah, hey, if you guys can bring some chips and salsa too, that’ll be great. It’ll be at Santana’s place because her parents are going to be away… _Wait_ , are you and that Blaine guy dating?”

Kurt couldn’t help the smile on his face or the dreamy sigh. “We had a picnic today, here in my room.”

“Yeah? Must have been some picnic.”

“It was,” And Kurt touches his lips, could still feel Blaine there, could still feel the way his whole body reacted to the kiss.

“Well, good. You sound happy, Kurt. But if he tries anything funny, I’m taking him down.”

Kurt laughs. It amazes him still how much Finn has changed. “Thanks. Blaine’s not like that, but thanks. I appreciate the offer.”

“Well, you’re my brother now. It’s kinda my job.”

Kurt falls asleep that night with smiles piled on top of smiles. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this happy.

\---

Blaine taps his fingers on the wheel. They’re in the car again except this time it’s night. They’re on their way to a party for some kid named Puck. Kurt is literally bouncing off his seat. He’s so excited to see his old friends again. And Blaine is happy for him, happy he was asked to come along. But he’s anxious too. What if Kurt’s friends don’t like him? He’s only met Mercedes, who was cool. But according to Kurt, Mercedes is the best. What if the rest of them think he’s some kind of deformed alien zombie?

Kurt laughs and puts his hand on the crook of Blaine’s elbow. “You’re not deformed nor an alien nor a zombie. Relax. They’re going to love you. Besides, I don’t plan on sharing you for most of the night.” Kurt leans over and kisses him slow and sweet on the corner of his lips.

“I like that plan.” Blaine tries to kiss him back, but it’s hard from this angle, hard while he’s trying to drive at the same time. “Rain check?”

Kurt just smiles at him, radiant. “Rain check.”

\---

The party is in full swing when they make it in. Rachel answers the door bell and pulls Kurt into a hug, chip and salsa crushed in between. “Kurt! Look at you! I’ve missed you.” And then in his ears, in a whisper loud enough for Blaine to hear, “Oh, is this your Blaine? I remember him from sectionals. He’s cute!”

Kurt looks over and winks at Blaine. Oh yeah, he definitely agrees. He makes the introductions – Rachel, Puck, Finn and Quinn, Tina and Mike, Artie and Brittany, Santana, Sam and Lauren. Even Matt is there. Of course, Mercedes needs no instructions, pulls them both into a warm group hug. “I heard picnics are in.”

Kurt blushes lobster red. Thankfully, Puck’s whistle rings out loud and sharp just then. “Who’s up for Rock Band?” The room erupts into chaos, jumps and spins, colorful, loud, just the way he remembers them.

\---

Blaine washes his hands and checks his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He looks calmer than he feels. The party has been amazing. He has never been surrounded by this much energy, this much noise before. And Kurt was right about his friends. They like him just fine, even if Finn did pull him aside and threaten to beat him to a pulp if he ever hurts Kurt. He can respect that. “Hey, I hear you. I have a little sister. I know how that goes. You’re a good brother, Finn.” That seems to be enough for him. Finn gives him a nod, tells him he’s all right.

Blaine can live with all right. What’s hard though is seeing all these couples at the party, how Tina and Mike spend half the time cuddling, kissing. And he’s not quite sure if Brittany is with Santana or Artie but she’s really friendly with both of them. Watching all of them and having Kurt this close to him is driving Blaine crazy. He wants to kiss Kurt so bad.

As if hearing his plea, Kurt is there when he opens the door. Without a word, Kurt drags him back in and closes the door behind them, locks it. They meet half way, lips locking and just a trace of salsa on their tongues. Kurt pins him back against the door and Blaine pulls him in closer. This is all he ever seems to want these days. Get Kurt closer, get closer to Kurt.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He asks between kisses. “What if someone needs to–?”

“Yes,” Kurt kisses over his words, slow and thorough. “There’s like three bathrooms in this place.”

“Oh good,” Blaine licks his way back into Kurt’s mouth. “I’ve been waiting to kiss you all night.”

Kurt moans into him, and their bodies line up suddenly as one of Kurt’s legs slip between his. They both freeze as they feel the other hard against his thigh. Surprised, turned on, somewhat mortified, Blaine pulls back and rests his forehead against Kurt’s. “Sorry,” he says softly. “Sorry.” And he turns and opens the door.

Santana is there in the hallways when he walks out, flushed and still half hard. She lifts an eyebrow at him, saucy and knowing. “Come with me,” she takes his hand and Blaine goes with her, too polite to decline.

When they are inside her bedroom, she goes straight to her bedside drawer and leaves him standing by the door, a little awkward and still a little hot from making out with Kurt. She finds what she’s looking for right away, sways her way back to him and hands him a small stack of condoms and a bottle of lube. “Safety first,” she says. “Take ‘em. Trust me. You’re gonna need these.”

Blaine stammers a thank you and slips the items in his pant pockets.

\---

Kurt finds him on the front steps, gazing out at the sky. He sits down and bites on his upper lip. “Mercedes said that we should talk about it.”

Blaine looks at him and clears his throat. “Santana gave me condoms.”

“What?!”

“Also lube,” Blaine takes them out of his pockets. “Don’t worry – I’m not… Kurt, I promise you. I would never ever do anything you’re not ready for. In fact, I want you to take these. You put them away or throw them out – whatever you want.”

Kurt closes his hands over the items and fights the urge to jump into Blaine’s lap.

“I like you, Kurt. I like your voice. I like your style. I like your sarcastic. I like your heart. I like how much you care about your friends and how much they obviously love you, even Santana. You make me feel like a kite, you know? I feel light, happy, like I can float right over there to the top of that tree or that power line. I’m happy just getting to know you, getting to kiss you. That’s enough. That’s _a lot_.”

Kurt pockets the condoms and the lubes and takes a deep breath. “Blaine, I like you so much but I’m seriously this close to shaking you. It was both of us – if you’re sorry, then I am too. But I’m sort of not, you know? I’ve never- do you have any idea how heady it feels to know that you want me? _Me!_ Kurt Hummel.”

Blaine kisses him then, hard and a little desperate and follows up with another, soft and sweet. “You, Kurt Hummel, are amazing and don’t you ever forget that.”

“Okay.” Kurt lays his head down on Blaine’s shoulder. “You’re all right, too.”

Blaine laughs this big, happy laugh like sparklers and puts his arm around Kurt. “You’re the third person to tell me that today. Finn said it and then Puck because I gave him those personalized guitar picks, and now you.”

“But you like me best, right?”

“Oh, I think I love you.”

\---

Blaine doesn’t mean to blurt it out. He could feel Kurt react, this little jolt in his arms. And then Kurt lifts his head and stares into his eyes.

“Me too,” he says. “Me too.”

And Blaine feels his heart float all the way to the top of the trees.

 

5.  
Kurt feels like he’s walking on air. The boy he’s in love with told him he loves him too. In Kurt’s world, this never happens. Either the boy he likes is oblivious and straight, or he’s oblivious that a boy who pushes him into lockers could possibly want him on some level, buried deep underneath a thousand ostrich heads. He’s a little startled and a lot excited that Blaine likes him back. He imagines it’s like landing your first audition or catching your first fish. Except Blaine is neither a musical nor a fish.

Blaine is a gentleman who likes him for him, a gentleman whom he can’t stop thinking about, with flushed cheeks and in vivid dreams.

Kurt slips the condoms and the lube back again in his temporary hope chest – a jewelry box of a space – and presses his lips together. No, Blaine is right. Just getting to know him is enough, is a lot. And just yesterday, Blaine asked him to the annual spring dance that Dalton hosts in conjunction with its sister school.

“I had so many scenarios in my head about prom and none of them involved a guy. I thought I’d take Mercedes or go it alone or not go at all. But… _wow_.”

Blaine had looked at him fondly and made a face. “It’s not quite prom but it’s close. So… I take it that’s a yes?”

“Yes.” Kurt kissed him, all smiles. “Oh! We should go shopping!” All his favorite things are converging. Kurt feels like the luckiest boy in the world.

\---

Blaine isn’t quite sure how they got here. One minute he’s asking Kurt to the dance and the next they’re in front of an escalator in a mall. There might have been a night in between but since he spent it freaking out about his fashion taste and if Kurt would dump him solely on the basis of it, it doesn’t count.

“I like them so much more than elevators,” Kurt is saying now.

“Escalators?”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of them.”

“I’m not!” Blaine clutches the tips of Kurt’s fingers. “Hold me anyway.”

Kurt clutches back and the butterflies in Blaine’s stomach flap louder. They’re approaching some nice looking place with some nice looking mannequins. Blaine recites to himself what Wes told him last night. _Stick to the basics. You can’t go wrong._

Blaine isn’t sure about that. This is Kurt after all. The boy sees five shades of a color he thought was the same and can name them too.

“I can’t remember the last time I shopped for clothes.” Blaine runs his finger down the sleeve of a jacket as they pass it.

“That is exactly why we’re here!” Kurt pulls him further into the shop and picks out a couple of suits, a black bow tie, a midnight blue regular tie, a few shirts in grey and silver and _whatever_ that he can’t name. The selection makes Blaine’s head spin. These are not exactly basic, not to him.

Kurt leads him into the dressing rooms and then stops abruptly in front of a door. “You want to try them on and come out so I can see what works or…?”

Blaine knows what Kurt is asking. He even thought about it last night. “I wouldn’t know what to pair with what. Help me?”

\---

As Blaine closes the door behind them, Kurt hangs up all the items. He has five different looks in mind and he’s pretty sure Blaine will look perfect in each of them.

“What about you? Are we shopping for you too?” Blaine is asking.

Kurt just shakes his head. “Nope. I’ve got the perfect thing. You’ll be surprised. And don’t worry. It’s not a dress.” He laughs nervously as he flashes back to the Gaga wear incident at McKinley High.

“I’m not worried,” Blaine hugs him around his chest and Kurt warms immediately. “Plus, you’d probably rock a dress.”

Kurt takes a deep breath. It’s real. All of this is really real. “Oh, you know it,” he turns his head and places a peck on Blaine. When Blaine leans in though, the peck turns into soft suction of lips against lips. Kurt thinks he could do this forever. However, they have an outfit to pick out. Reluctantly, he pulls back.

\---

Blaine doesn’t even have to ask Kurt to turn around while he changes. Kurt just does it. They work in perfect synchronization – Kurt handing him the items and Blaine putting them on, mostly right side up. Except the ties. He messes up pretty badly on the ties.

He thinks it may be on purpose. It means, in any case, that Kurt has to stand very close and fix his ties for him. It gives him an opportunity to just take Kurt in – the scents of him, the looks of him, the warmth. All of it makes him smile.

“What? Do I have ketchup on my nose?”

“No,” Blaine laughs. “I just like looking at you. You’re beautiful, Kurt.”

Kurt ducks his head at the compliment. He always does. “ _You_ are. In these clothes especially. You could saunter down the catwalk and all of gay Ohio plus the ladies would do a double take.”

“That’s okay. All of gay Ohio plus the ladies could ogle their own honeys. I just want you.” And Blaine means it. It scares him a little bit how much he means it.

\---

Kurt steadies himself against the thin wall of the dressing room. Blaine is handsome to the limit of the word handsome. He half wants to be Blaine and half wants to jump him.

“This is it.” Kurt looks at how the suit seems to hug him, how the colors bring out the color of Blaine’s eyes - earthy tones and not at all earthly. Blaine looks otherworldly really, like a character out of some movie from another planet. “You should look at yourself in the mirror.”

Blaine does and meets his eyes in the mirror. “Well, Kurt, you turned me from frog to prince. I think it’s the kissing that did it. What do you think?”

At the waggle of Blaine’s eyebrows, Kurt couldn’t help laughing. Blaine may be princely but he has to be the dorkiest prince ever. It kind of makes Kurt love him more. He settles for kissing him. That, they can both agree, is magic.

 

6.  
The perfect thing doesn’t come close to describing Kurt’s look on the night of the dance. Blaine digs a nail into skin and hopes this stays real, that he doesn’t mess things up. It is Kurt’s first school dance after all.

Kurt told him there was some dancing at the Hummel-Hudson wedding, with Finn and Mr. Hummel but nothing where the whole school (or two in this case) gets to see you with your person.

Blaine is excited and nervous. He took another of Wes’ advice and hopes he doesn’t regret it. Self-consciously, he runs a hand through his curls.

Kurt joins him at the bottom of the stairs and his hand follows Blaine’s, and _oh_ , this feels nice. “Your hair!” Kurt looks at it in awe. “I never wanted to mess it up before but now I can!”

“Wes is a genius,” Blaine concedes. “My mother too since I got the curls from her. But let’s talk about you. This is – you are – I am speechless.”

“A good speechless, right?”

Blaine holds out his hand for Kurt’s. “Very,” he squeezes Kurt’s hand lightly. “I think all of the ballroom will be staring at you tonight. May I have the first dance and the second dance and all the other ones too?”

\---

Kurt feels like he’s in a fairy tale. Blaine is a good dancer, with a good rhythm. He’s a good lead and he’s a good follower. Kurt tries not to think about what Mercedes told him about dancing and how it’s the closest thing to making out without making out.

Kurt has made out with Blaine plenty but it has always been behind closed doors or somehow out of sight. Despite what Karofsky said, he doesn’t flaunt his fabulousness. Not too much. Tonight though, he can make an exception. Tonight he has Blaine as his date at the dance. He catches a few winks Wes and David throw his way and he winks back, happy dangling bright in his chest.

\---

Blaine doesn’t even see the bed this time when he steps inside Kurt’s room. Kurt is busy kicking the door closed and running his hands through Blaine’s curls and it’s all Blaine could do not to moan every word. “So good. You drive me crazy. _Kurt_.”

Kurt is a natural at kissing. His hands cup the back of Blaine’s neck and run up through the mess of curls, simultaneously fitting their mouths closer together. His hands run down Blaine’s shoulders and small of back and up where Blaine’s chest is heaving from want, from love.

Blaine thinks that in a reversal of roles, Kurt has given him courage. He isn’t scared at all, sitting here on a bed with a boy. There’s Kurt, kissing and loving him and it’s good. It’s so good. He doesn’t want Kurt to stop.

So, he pulls Kurt on top of him. And Kurt moans something incoherent. The vibration of it goes through Blaine’s whole body, to his tippy toes. He thinks this is beyond anything he’s ever experienced. And then he stops thinking.

\---

Kurt feels Blaine’s arms around him, warm and hard and needy. The sounds that Blaine makes, the measure of breaths that Blaine takes, all of it turns him on. Kurt knows neither of them wants to push. Neither of them is in a rush. But both of them really, really like kissing, this savoring each other. So, this is what they do, lick for lick and stroke for stroke.

Kurt can’t get over the feel of Blaine’s curls around his fingers, so soft, so touchable. And every time Kurt tugs on them just a little, Blaine gets hot, arches up to meet him.

Kissing and caressing, they somehow end up flush against each other, shoes and jackets discarded, ties askew. Blaine cups Kurt’s cheek at one point just to tell him “I love you.” And Kurt actually says it back this time. He allows himself to be loved this time, allows himself to make it real. “I love you, Blaine.”

When their bodies move together, some distant music still stuck in their ears, it’s a perfect fit, as if they’re made for each other. Blaine’s legs wrap around Kurt’s waist. Kurt’s hips fit into Blaine’s and their mouths move over each other, over lips, over necks, over collarbones.

\---

Blaine thinks these clothes that Kurt helped him pick out must be made of skin. He feels naked lying here with Kurt in his arms. Every touch from Kurt feels like a word: _yes, more, please, love you, want you_.

Kurt’s kisses down Blaine’s chest, collarbones and sternum and then a swirl around Blaine’s right nipple, and Blaine gasps, clutches Kurt around his waist, heels over spine. “Kurt!”

“Good, you’re not ticklish.” Kurt continues his ministrations and Blaine lies there, like a fish fresh out of water, wriggling like his _life_ depends on it.

“Kurt, Kurt.” Blaine isn’t sure what he’s saying anymore. It just all feels so good. He feels like he can come like this, just like this, Kurt’s tongue lapping over the nub of his nipple, Kurt’s hands still buried deep in his curls, pulling a little, Kurt’s stomach rocking against his rock hard cock. “ _Please._ ”

\---

Kurt drags himself up to Blaine’s mouth and kisses him deep, tongue picking just the right tune as they rock together, chest to chest and cock to cock. This is so not what he expected. They’re still mostly dressed and there’s no condom or lube in use. Still, this is perfect the way it is. Blaine has come undone, beautiful and flushed and true.

\---

Blaine sees only Kurt, panting above him as he comes. And Kurt is so beautiful, inside and out. Blaine lets go, lets go completely.

When he comes to, Kurt is lying beside him, spooned up to his side. Their legs are still tangled and their clothes are a mess. “Thank you and I’m sorry,” Blaine starts and shushes Kurt when he starts to protest. “Thank you for the dancing and for blowing my mind. Sorry about ruining our new clothes.”

“Dry clean,” Kurt kisses his cheek. “Tomorrow. It’s all good. It’s all very good actually.” And Kurt smiles shyly at him.

Blaine smiles back and touches his nose to Kurt’s. Lazily, he drags it along Kurt’s and nuzzles into him. It feels a little like belonging, a lot like love. It feels like a new beginning.


End file.
